<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>infrared by alpha_cassiopeiae</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29828742">infrared</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/alpha_cassiopeiae/pseuds/alpha_cassiopeiae'>alpha_cassiopeiae</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>as though through a prism (our wavelengths diffract) [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Unus Annus - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(sort of at least), All Our Video Ideas That Never Happened, Awkwardness, F/M, Love Confessions, M/M, Multi, Polyamory Negotiations, Safewords, Sub!Mark (implied), Thermal Dick Cam</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 20:48:54</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,488</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29828742</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/alpha_cassiopeiae/pseuds/alpha_cassiopeiae</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The thermal dick cam video never saw the light of day. </p><p>Maybe it was never meant to.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Mark Fischbach/Amy Nelson, Mark Fischbach/Amy Nelson/Ethan Nestor, Mark Fischbach/Ethan Nestor</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>as though through a prism (our wavelengths diffract) [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2309003</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>149</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>infrared</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>you know the drill – i don't ship these people irl, this is fiction and entertainment, nothing else. if you're in any way affiliated with persons whose personas are depicted herein, please, please leave, don't read this, forget that you ever saw it. everyone else – please do not spread or link this outside of AO3. i don't want anyone to have to see this if they aren't looking for it specifically. thank you!</p><p>that said, here's some of my unus annus grief that's been sitting unedited on my google drive for months. i hope it's readable? i've been reading and cooing over crankiplier privately for years, so i'm glad to finally contribute something!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Not even halfway through the year, Unus Annus has already become an excuse to being every crazy, stupid, brilliant, ridiculous idea to life, whether it be an equipment extravaganza or an internet deep dive. The ideas are supplied by all of them: mostly Amy, largely Mark, and every now and again, Ethan shows up with an idea for an absolute banger of a video that blows everyone else out of the water.</p><p>But pointing a thermal cam at their dicks for fun and profit? That was all Mark.</p><p>And now he's here, about to be restrained to a chair with padded leather cuffs, infrared camera pointed squarely at his crotch, his girlfriend filming it all while his close friend and co-host exposes him to stuff whose allure he hopefully doesn't need to try that hard to avoid.</p><p>Hopefully.</p><p>"Dude, you run hot", Ethan says. He's checking the camera setup, calibrating the readings from Mark's body against a handy colour chart that came with the camera as Mark is positioning a suitable chair in frame. "You're all bright on the display back here. Oooh, but it changes colours when I twist the dial, that's nifty!"</p><p>Mark pulls a face at Ethan playing dumb about equipment he knows like the back of his own hand, stifling a groan. He does that sometimes, falling into the role of resident dumbass for the sake of the video. "Nifty?"</p><p>"Yeah? Useful, neat, y'know?"</p><p>Ethan's using the dumb voice again, which honestly should be more annoying to Mark than it is. That probably speaks volumes about how screwed he really is.</p><p>"I know what it <i>means</i>, Eth."</p><p>They bought wrist and ankle cuffs for the cooking with sex toys video, but they never found a good place to make use of them. Now, Mark is securing the ankle cuffs to the legs of the chair, and the wrist cuffs to the back. He sits down, checking his reach to make sure they're in the right position. </p><p>After plugging the whole setup into a capture device, Ethan twists the dials again. "Gotta demonstrate what I'm talking about here, look at it go."</p><p>Mark gives a fond chuckle, sharing a long-suffering smile with Amy behind the action cam, before rolling his eyes at Ethan in mock-exasperation "Stop looking at my magical rainbow crotch, man, get to the good part."</p><p>The good part being actually sitting each other down, tying each other up, and exposing each other to a list of carefully curated kinks and fetishes based on their knowledge of the other, which could go hilariously wrong in so many ways. </p><p>If Mark is perfectly honest, which he quite often prides himself in being, he considers himself pretty vanilla. He's adamant about that fact. Normal, standard, square, boring, whatever, that's him, that's his preference, that's what he likes and where he's comfortable. Sex is good in itself, and he hardly has the time to indulge in extensive hedonism anyway, so why complicate it? </p><p>Ethan, on the other hand, is a wildcard.</p><p>He's younger, for one, and more...online. The extent of the younger's knowledge has taken Mark by surprise before, often surpassing his own, but he's never really thought about it for too long. Sure, it's come up once or twice – <i>Ethan's razor-sharp focus in the 'bear trapping' video, clumsily but carefully arranging the ropes into knot formations he'd supposedly never seen before, nimble fingers trembling, like this isn't the part he's used to playing</i> – but mostly, Mark's brushed it off. The less time he spends thinking about Ethan like that, the better, right?</p><p>"Who goes first? I mean, we can stop this anytime, but I doubt we'll need to?" Ethan says, bright-eyed and on board. He sounds so excited to get on with it, a mischievous glint playing across the shine of his eyes, and something starts gently fluttering with anticipation deep in Mark's chest, too. He opens his mouth before his brain has time to stop him.</p><p>"I'll go first."</p><p>Fuck. There's so many unknowns yet to come. So much they haven't discussed.</p><p>"You sure about that, Mark?"</p><p>Amy, ever the observant producer; ever the observant girlfriend, tentatively agreeing to let them shoot this. She probably saw him wince. She knows his tells, but Mark's not one to back out on something once he's already halfway in. He's got his metaphorical socks wet already. Mark's not a quitter.</p><p>"I'm sure," he says, and he means it.</p><p>
  <i>"This is my safeword–...uh, s-safeword–"</i>
</p><p>
  <i>"That's a bad safeword, man."</i>
</p><p>Mark is usually attentive to people's boundaries, but he's also painfully aware of the times he's fucked it up. They had to sit down and talk about it afterwards, that time at the escape room. It was fine in the end – quick thinking and experience on behalf of the escape room crew gave them time added to the clock and a seamless edit when Ethan had to sit down and take a breather outside. It could have been worse.</p><p>Still. Ethan had wanted to cold stop, and Mark had ignored that blindly, for the sake of the bit that never was. His stomach still churns remembering it; the cold, sinking feeling when he realised he'd gone too far. It intermixes with the easy laughter and the restless butterflies chewing their way through his abdomen when he's around Ethan and Amy at the same time. They amplify each other, he thinks. Complement each other.</p><p>
  <i>"You never ignore someone's safeword. Ever. No matter how clumsy or dumb you think it sounds. I just want you to understand that."</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Hurt colouring Ethan's voice despite the professionality in his tone. Amy comforting him when he needed Mark at arm's length.</i>
</p><p>They have actual safewords for filming, now: "asparagus" for show and simple pain, and "full stop", arms forming an X, to drop the bit. They chose them just in case, but deliberately, because Ethan wanted them. It was only fair to listen to what he wanted, and it's only fair that Mark goes first now, to prove that he's learnt.</p><p>He sits down as confidently as he can; flashes a cocky smile. "Amy, wanna strap me in? I could do the intro like that, zip-zap, ready to go."</p><p>"Sure! Hold this for me."</p><p>She hands the handheld camera to Ethan, who pouts at Mark. "You don't trust me to do it?"</p><p>"I do! I just thought it would be better if–...oh, you big baby, come over here, do my hands, if you gotta."</p><p>He tries not to think too hard about it, a task that becomes increasingly harder with every firm push of Amy's hands against the mechanism trapping his legs in place, and every brush of Ethan's fingertips across his skin as he buckles the cuffs around his wrists, checking the tightness with a digit underneath the padding automatically, right where Mark's blood is steadily pumping. <i>Arteria radialis; the radial artery</i>, supplies Mark's near-forgotten anatomy knowledge. Can Ethan feel the quickening of his heartbeat? Can Amy feel his calves trembling?</p><p>If they do, they say nothing.</p><p>The moments up until Amy prompts him to get to some sort of intro spiel pass in a blur. He coughs up a pretty decent bit, Ethan is on top of his yes-and game, and they get through it with only a passing allusion to Mark's alleged masochism, which he laughs off. Amy makes sure to show off the thermal output screen, reaching out a rare floating hand into frame to ruffle Ethan's hair. </p><p>"He set it up all by himself, what a good boy."</p><p>
  <i>Good boy.</i>
</p><p>Ethan makes a mock-disgusted face and moves on, giggling, but something about it hits Mark like a punch in the gut. The fondness in Amy's voice; the care in her eyes; her gentle mannerisms. Ethan's wide smile and easy laugh, open and genuine. And two small, relatively innocent words that gnaw at some fragile thing inside him that he'd rather not admit to discovering.</p><p>That writhing in his chest grows stronger, like it's taunting him. Traitorous warmth starts pooling in his abdomen.</p><p>Is he jealous? </p><p>Jealousy is out of character for him. He doesn't recognise this feeling as jealousy, anyway. It doesn't make him nauseous, doesn't feel wrong in the way he expects it to. Besides, Amy's friendship with Ethan has been close from the start, and Mark's happy about that, especially when he gets to sit back and watch them goof off together. It would be awful if they didn't like each other, because dammit, he loves Amy, so much, but he also feels a deep care for Ethan, for the capable adult he's become. They're so important to him, the two of them, both of them. Maybe, just maybe, he could be good for both of them.</p><p>He freezes when he catches himself thinking it.</p><p>No. Nope. Fuck no. </p><p>His face flushes, and he wriggles in the confines of the cuffs, suddenly needing urgently to be free of them and flee the room. <i>God, he's gonna have to say it, isn't he.</i>"A-Amy, Eth, I–...fuck. Stop. Full stop."</p><p>He cringes at his own discombobulation, but Amy drops the camera immediately, and they both rush over to undo his bindings. As soon as he's free, he flexes his hands, stands up, mumbles out something about really needing to pee, and makes a break for the bathroom, leaving Amy and Ethan and the chair and the cuffs and the fucking infrared dick cam in his wake.</p><p>Once the door is shut, he finally exhales and dares to look at himself in the mirror. To his surprise, he looks nothing like he expected. The warmth he feels in his cheeks is barely showing up, only a faint pinkish glow to his otherwise warm-toned skin, like he's just started warmups for a workout. What was he expecting? To look debauched, somehow?</p><p>He breathes deeply a couple times. Splashes cold water in his face. Breathes some more. This is fine, he can wing this, he can pitch some other pinch-hit idea on the fly and smooth this whole thing over. He just has to improvise. It's what he does best, after all.</p><p>He pads guiltily back to the lounge, sighing in relief when he sees Ethan and Amy on the sofa, talking softly with Chica and Spencer resting at their feet, nudging lazily at each other. A mirror. Even though he can't hear them over the buzzing in his own head, the sight of them is comforting.</p><p>"I don't wanna talk about it", Mark blurts out. "Let's just clean up and eat and figure out what to replace this with. I can–"</p><p>"Mark." It's the cut-the-bullshit tone, the one Amy pulls when she can see him taking a bit too far, or when he isn't sleeping, or when he wakes up in a pool of sweat after another one of his nightmares and promises that nothing's wrong. "We're not just gonna let this go. You know that."</p><p>"Yeah", says Ethan, anxiously twisting his bracelets, "we kinda need to talk about this, dude. If you don’t think you need to, that’s fine, but we should." </p><p>The look of absolute concern writ so honestly on Ethan's face is what does him in. He sits down between them, where they've made space for him, hunching inwards to hide himself from scrutiny despite himself.</p><p>"It's not important", he starts, even though it's a lie. "I just realised that, well, this whole thing might be a little inappropriate, right? I trusted myself not to, y'know, have a–...a reaction, but then I got in the chair, and–"</p><p>He trails off, hoping they get it. Hoping he won't have to embarrass himself any further.</p><p>Amy knits her brows together. "I see what you mean, I think. I was worried about this idea, too, like… that it might be a little further into our privacy than we should be going? Is that what got to you?"</p><p>
  <i>Yes and no.</i>
</p><p>"I guess." Mark leans forward, rubbing at his temples. Why is he still feeling so fucking weird? "I also, well. I felt. Something."</p><p>He reaches for Amy's hand on instinct, for comfort, and she takes it in both of hers, firmly but with care, raising an eyebrow. "Go on?"</p><p>Okay. Deep breath. "It's not like that! It's just, the two of you, y'know, buckling me in, and, um. Yeah."</p><p>Taking in Mark's flushed face, Ethan takes his free hand. Slowly, to give him a chance to pull away, in case that's an Amy-only thing. Despite the steep increase in casual touches between the two of them, Ethan has always been tentative more than anything; always hesitated just a little, as if he’s expecting the <i>don’t touch me</i>-bit to come back any second. Mark doesn't pull away. Instead, he lets Ethan's long, thin fingers fall neatly between his own. It feels new and fragile and so, so right all at once, and–</p><p>It might have been a trick of the light, but Mark swears he can see a tinge of pink appear high on Ethan's cheeks. He must have caught his phrasing. He must have. "You hated it? Or liked it?"</p><p>"Liked it. I think."</p><p>He cringes at how small his voice sounds, but it's weird, now that he's said it, how the anxiety dissipates. Amy's hand in one of his, Ethan's in the other, he feels oddly taken care of, cradled between the both of them. It gives him what he needs to continue.</p><p>"I liked that it was both of you. Like, specifically that, and not, y'know. The rest of it," he says, making a noncommittal hand gesture vaguely indicating his wrists. "And I think I don't want anyone else to see that." </p><p>"I get that", Amy says, quietly, like she’s revealing a secret. "Me neither."</p><p>There it is, then. For once, this is theirs, and only theirs.</p><p>Ethan has gone oddly still, only absently stroking across the back of Mark's thumb with his own, in rhythmic, soothing circles. It's the sort of tender touch they've started secretly sharing, and pretending not to notice to prolong the moment without having to call attention to the elephant in the room.</p><p>(Well, here's the thing about elephants: Some day, like a nascent Adam, you will have to name them.)</p><p>"Amy?" It's Ethan, finally speaking up, with a pensive look on his face. "Are you–are you okay with this?"</p><p>She looks them over, counting touches – Ethan's hand in Mark's, their thighs pressed together, the palpable tension between them – and seems to understand.</p><p>She nods, almost shyly, an admission. "We need to feel this out, but… yeah. I am. I really am."</p><p>An odd tension melts from Mark's shoulders. He's not fully aware of his body just yet, but now that it's gone, he feels lighter. Hopeful. His insides still buzz with anticipation.</p><p>Maybe this is okay.</p><p>He squeezes. Ethan squeezes back.</p><p>Maybe they can have this.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thank you for reading! &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>